


All Our Jagged Edges

by Mystical_Magician



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Stephen Strange, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Coma, Dirty Talk, Disability, Fear, Kid Peter Parker, M/M, Nightmares, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Omega Tony Stark, Oral Sex, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-31 22:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18322796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystical_Magician/pseuds/Mystical_Magician
Summary: A broken alpha sorcerer is investigating an unusual epidemic with seeming ties to the mystical arts. A paranoid omega superhero detests sitting by uselessly while his godson is in a coma. When the two meet, it goes about as well as could be expected.





	All Our Jagged Edges

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yukitsubute](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukitsubute/gifts).



> with the @ironstrangehaven gift exchange
> 
> I included elements from all three of your prompts (which might be why it ended up being so excessively long). I really hope you enjoy this! 
> 
> This was a lot of firsts for me: first time writing to someone else's prompt, first time participating in a fic exchange, first time writing omegaverse, and first time not chickening out of writing really explicit smut (I love reading it, but am usually too afraid to write it).

He studied the man surreptitiously, not sure yet whether he wanted to draw their attention or not. The red cape was rather ridiculous, and no man should look so serious wearing it. However, the rest of the unusual outfit suited him surprisingly well. Tony thought it looked east Asian, or southeast Asian, but the addition of the cape made it seem more like a costume than traditional dress. Tony would assume that he had wandered in accidentally, or out of morbid curiosity, if he hadn't been accompanied by a doctor. 

 

Some sort of specialist, perhaps? He'd never seen one in clothes like that, but he flipped through patient charts rather efficiently as he listened to Dr. Palmer speaking quietly in his ear. The pair seemed very comfortable, actually, based on their body language. Tony's eyes narrowed, and he switched on the bluetooth device in his ear to listen to what they were saying. This was his godson's health on the line. He wanted the truth, not whatever platitudes doctors thought he wanted to hear.

 

“…like some sort of contagion, but all of the tests have come back clean. It's only ever been young children so far, and a new one is brought in every few days. Parents have more and more trouble waking them up, until eventually the children just slip into a coma.”

 

“All of them suffered from vivid nightmares?”

 

Tony clenched his jaw, that deep voice giving him goosebumps. Jesus, who even had such a low register naturally?

 

“Yes. The subject of those nightmares varied, but there was one common denominator. At some point, they all dreamed of what seems to be the same man, generally in the background of whatever was happening. White skin, wild green hair, green clothes.”

 

The man hummed, and reached out a hand to hover just over the forehead of the little girl whose hospital bed he happened to be standing beside. 

 

“Nick discounted it as irrelevant. A coincidence, influenced by tales about previous patients.”

 

“Nick's an idiot.” Said with absentminded derision, an automatic retort. A colleague, perhaps? A rival? Tony recalled – if only because it was so unusual – that Nicodemus was the first name of the leading neurosurgeon associated with his godson's condition. 

 

The man moved on to another bed, closer to where Tony slumped in an uncomfortable hospital chair at Peter's bedside. His hand hovered over the new child's forehead as well, and he ignored Dr. Palmer's mild defense of the absent doctor. “According to the EEG readings, they're still having nightmares, despite all other readings placing them in a coma?”

 

“Combined with everything else, I thought this might fall under your specialty,” she said wryly.

 

He moved on to another little girl, and Tony wondered what, exactly, he was doing. It looked like he was checking for a fever, but his hand never made contact.

 

“Correct diagnosis once again, Christine,” he murmured.

 

“Damn.”

 

“I'll need to do some research. See if Wong's ever heard of something like this before…”

 

He turned to leave, Dr. Palmer at his side, when he seemed to notice Tony for the first time. An elegant eyebrow arched, and the billionaire uncharitably wondered if he practiced that in the mirror. “I'm fairly certain that visiting hours are over.” The comment could have been directed at anyone.

 

Dr. Palmer responded before Tony could. “You know that exceptions can be made, Stephen.”

 

'Stephen' glanced around the ward. “Just the one?” he murmured, voice dry.

 

“A guy who looks like he's been hired as cheap entertainment for the children's ward should not be making comments about allowances, Bozo,” Tony said snidely, rising to his feet, teeth bared. His voice was hoarse; he'd been talking to Peter for hours, hoping that he really could hear him, hoping to provide some form of comfort and trying to delude himself that his small godson wasn't trapped in nightmares. He wasn't in the mood for this asshole, but he had made a career of defying any and every authority figure, especially alphas. He'd be damned if he balked now. 

 

No matter how pretty he was, and the man was fucking gorgeous now that Tony could openly examine him. Fuck, he didn't need this now.

 

The specialist took a step forward, eyes blazing and lips parting to give a no-doubt vicious retort. Tony's heart sped in response.

 

“Stephen,” Dr. Palmer snapped with absolute authority. The pair scowled at each other for a long moment.

 

“Dr. Stephen Strange,” he hissed.

 

“What?” Tony blinked, confused.

 

“My name. Is Dr. Strange.”

 

Tony bristled at the condescending tone. “Oh, are we exchanging stage names, now?”

 

“Right,” Dr. Palmer cut in, obviously seeing that things were once again heading south and attempting to herd her colleague toward the exit. “I'm sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Stark. We'll leave you to get some rest, and hopefully we'll have more news in another day or two.”

 

Strange let himself be moved, but Tony wasn't sure how to take the furrowed brow and considering look when the taller man looked past him and focused on Peter. He moved instinctively to block Strange's view of his helpless kid. It brought him very close to the specialist on his way out, but any temptation to ram into him with a shoulder or elbow was completely wiped away by his scent.

 

He bit down on his tongue, turning his head slightly to the side so that his expression was hidden if Strange should happen to look back. His scent… Tony’s hands curled into fists, repressing the sudden urge to reach out. It was indescribable and overwhelming despite its faintness. He felt warm. He felt _safe_ , and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt that way. His omega instincts urged him to reach out, to whine and bare his throat, and demand the alpha’s attention.

 

The doors shut, and Tony collapsed into his chair. _What was that?_

 

His thoughts slowly cleared, and he raked a hand over his face. He’d never had such a strong urge to submit before. Not willingly and unprompted. He’d long mastered his resistance to an alpha command, no matter how powerful.

 

It was just because he was coming off his suppressants for his yearly heat. That’s all. Fucking awful timing, all of it, but he’d learned his lesson years ago. Trying to put off the yearly heat required by suppressants for too long was…a bad idea. Not just unhealthy, but painful. Not something he wanted to experience twice.

 

Tony’s mind drifted back to the specialist, and he straightened suddenly in shock. Strange hadn’t smelled like an alpha. He hadn’t smelled like a dynamic at all. The beta scent had come solely from Dr. Palmer.

 

What was he? How was that possible?

 

He tried to figure our why he had automatically assumed alpha. Sure, the man had been an arrogant asshole, but that wasn’t exactly limited to alphas. Tony was a prime example of that.

 

His body language and tone of voice could be considered dominant, he supposed, but not nearly as extreme as many alphas he had known over the years. It was just as likely that he was a beta, slightly less likely he was an omega.

 

Maybe he was a beta?

 

Betas smelled more neutral, but…there was none of that in his scent.

 

Tony groaned and rested his head against the bed, reaching out to gently hold onto Peter’s hand. Why was he so stuck on this? Who knew if he would ever meet the guy again, anyway?

 

He ignored a pang at that thought, and turned his attention back to what was important. Closing his eyes, he settled back in until May came in the morning to relieve him.

 

 

The sleek black cat sat patiently against the wall, just to the side of the door. A white-tipped tail curled around his paws, white-tipped ears twitching and swiveling as the sounds of New York blared around him. Pedestrians hurried by without acknowledging, or even really noticing, its presence.

 

It perked up a bit when one tired man in particular approached, hands moving expressively as he spoke on a cell phone. Large blue-green eyes looked up at him, occasionally darting around to assess its surroundings as the cat slipped behind him to walk at his heels. Its tail flicked almost jauntily as it trotted into the Tower in Tony Stark's wake, as if it had every right to be there. Only a few employees and visitors even looked down to notice its presence. Their expressions twisted a bit in confusion, and one or two looked as though they were tempted to approach. But Stark was known for his eccentricity, and he was rather busy on the phone besides. When both man and cat entered the private, off-limits elevator to the residential floor, they decided that it was probably a new pet or something and more or less forgot about it.

 

Stephen's whiskers twitched in faint amusement as he sat to the side and a bit behind Stark. Just out of his peripheral vision and not so close as to risk getting stepped on if the businessman moved unexpectedly. That had been easier than he'd thought it would be.

 

“Boss,” said a woman with an Irish lilt. The voice came unexpectedly from nowhere Stephen could see, and he flinched, black fur bristling slightly in surprise.

 

“What is it, Fri?” Stark asked, ending his call and slipping his phone into a pocket.

 

“Have you acquired a pet cat?”

 

“…what?” he said blankly. Stark glanced down and around. He jerked back when he noticed Stephen, who ignored him completely, as only a cat could. “Where the hell did that come from?”

 

Stephen studied the distorted reflection of Stark in the metal wall of the elevator, and tried to decide if that was fear or just shock. Did Stark have something against cats? Or, the thought occurred, had he heard of flerkens before? Perhaps he should have chosen a different form. 

 

But this was the only form he had any experience with, and it was so useful besides. Cats could get almost everywhere, and almost never stood out. Even if he wasn't on Earth, he was generally either given a wide berth or ignored. And on bad days, it was nice to curl up in a patch of sunlight or in front of a fire.

 

Plus, the form had been surprisingly…not easy, exactly. But he hadn't had much trouble getting accustomed to being a cat. Wong said that's because he basically was one, and Stephen had chosen to take it as a compliment rather than a complaint. He thought he was getting better at reading the other sorcerer, but it was hard to tell sometimes.

 

He stood and stretched as the elevator compartment began to slow, ignoring Stark's sputtering when he was told that Stephen had just followed him in, and trotted out of the open doors into the living area. He'd known that the security would be thorough, just not how thorough. Luckily he'd decided to shapeshift rather than portal in. 

 

“Hold it right there, you – you  _cat_!” Stark exclaimed.

 

Stephen glanced over his shoulder and leveled an unimpressed stare at him.

 

“Jesus, this one's got attitude,” the man muttered to himself, or possibly Friday. 

 

He flicked his tail and went back to exploring. Peter must have a room around here somewhere. Perhaps he should have gotten the child's scent, but he wasn't a dog, and there were only so many places the bedroom could be.

 

Stephen heard heavy footsteps approaching, felt a shift in the air, and hissed as he skittered away from the hands that reached to grab him.

 

Stark groaned. “Come on, cat. You can't stay here. I've got no idea what possessed you to follow me in the first place. Just let me see where your owne – annnnd, no collar. Great. Friday, check to see if you can find any missing cat reports with his description.”

 

“On it, Boss. You sure he's not a stray?”

 

“Nah, he looks too clean and healthy for that. Bit underfed, though.”

 

Stephen glared at him, ears flattened against his skull. But all Stark did was watch him thoughtfully before wandering into what appeared to be the kitchen. Relaxing slightly, he took the chance to trot into the hallway at the opposite end, pausing to look inside all of the rooms and shouldering open a door or two for a better view. A child's room would be obvious, surely. He hoped it wasn't behind a closed door.

 

Luck was with him. He slunk into the surprisingly clean room and leapt onto the bed. Iron Man sheets greeted him and he snorted before his attention turned elsewhere. His eyes narrowed into slits and he kneaded his paws as he focused on what he could sense, studying the metaphysical currents in the room. He'd already checked Peter's permanent residence with his aunt and thought he'd better cover all of his bases. You couldn't make a proper diagnosis with only a partial medical history, after all. 

 

Stephen lost all sense of time. He couldn't tell how long he'd been out when he finally yawned widely, stretched, and shook himself. He was just thankful that Stark hadn't interrupted.

 

That done, he busied himself examining every inch of the room, and then searching every other room in the hallway. There must be something that had begun this. A sigil, an object, something Peter had come into contact with. It would stand out against the complete lack of active magic, he’d already come up with absolutely nothing at Peter’s home.

 

That was part of the reason he’d chosen to do this as a cat. Active magic would make things more difficult than passive magic. Plus, he didn’t want to tip off whoever was behind this. It may or may not be a trap, but he wasn’t about to make things more dangerous for the victims if he could help it.

 

Finding nothing, the sorcerer made his way to the main living area and considered his next steps. He should definitely check out the homes of a few of the other children, but based on the paperwork he was fairly sure that Peter was patient zero. None of the doctors had been able to figure out how the epidemic was spreading. Assuming none of the doctors were complete idiots – Christine, at least, wasn't – Stephen was inclined to believe that the answer to that question, and many others, lay in the Dream Dimension. 

 

He'd been beyond tempted to step into the dreams in that hospital ward. To go and see exactly what was happening first hand. He might even have done it. Except his lack of knowledge and experience risked the children, instead of just himself. Stephen had returned to his Sanctum to study up on dream travel and their realms instead. He felt prepared to try it now, in fact, once he managed to leave the building.

 

En route to the rest of the suite he hadn’t yet searched, and wondering if he could jump high enough to reach the buttons for the elevator, he was distracted enough not to notice Stark's adjustments right away.

 

Several towels, a blanket, and a couple of small pillows had been arranged into a nest on the floor next to one of the couches. He'd thought he had scented the other man just coming off suppressants at the hospital. This basically confirmed it. His nesting instincts weren't strong enough that Stark felt compelled to make his own nest yet, but strong enough that he'd made one for Stephen. Unless he had other animals wandering around, which was doubtful.

 

Now that he was thinking of it, he realized that he could smell the encroaching heat of an omega lingering throughout the suite. It didn’t affect his cat body the way it would his human one. Not that it would affect him the way it did other alphas anyway. If there was the faintest glimmer of a silver lining to Stephen’s condition, it was his inability to go into rut. He’d never liked that feeling of losing control.

 

He approached the nest, unable to resist his curiosity, though he had more ground to explore. Stark was surprisingly kind.

 

“Hey, cat.”

 

Stephen turned and cocked his head to look at the man standing in the kitchen door.

 

“I was wondering when you'd finish exploring. Come over here. You need food, and I've got leftovers.” He crouched down, something in his hand held outstretched.

 

Stephen hesitated, and then slunk over to him, watching with a wary eye as the distance closed. He sniffed at the piece of chicken Stark held. It seemed safe enough, so he snatched it up. His tongue rasped against the palm as he lapped at the taste the chicken left on skin. This would be very weird if he thought too much about it, so he didn't. And he'd definitely eaten worse.

 

A hand briefly scratched his head just behind his ears, causing him to purr faintly in gratitude and contentment. People so rarely touched him these days in ways that didn't hurt. 

 

“Pretty eyes,” Stark murmured, and Stephen held his gaze, unspeakably glad that cats couldn’t blush, until he wiped his hand on his pants and rolled his shoulders. “Come on, cat. I've got some more in the kitchen.” He stood and nearly tripped over Stephen who wound between his legs. “You menace.”

 

Stephen ignored him and darted over to where two bowls – one filled with water, the other chicken – sat on the floor. He hadn't realized how hungry he was.

 

Stark leaned against marble countertop with a tablet as he watched Stephen examine the kitchen once he finished his dinner. “What are you looking for?” he wondered between chuckles. But he didn't follow when Stephen left the room to cover the rest of the penthouse.

 

He was discontent when he returned to the living area, having found nothing. Something must be on the children, he decided. Stephen had to have missed something that first night in the ward. He'd go back again later tonight, and find one of the children in the Dream Dimension. Find Peter. The boy might be his best chance at getting answers regarding how this had begun.

 

Getting some rest now couldn't hurt, though, he thought as he hesitated near the nest and glanced up at the eccentric inventor reclining on his couch. He'd slept maybe a handful of hours in the past two days, and didn't want to seem ungrateful for Stark's efforts. He could always get Stark to let him out later.

 

That decided, he leapt into the nest, curled up into a ball, and fell asleep.

 

 

Peter huddled in a corner of the closet, eyes squeezed shut and hands clamped tight over his ears, tears and snot streaked across his face. He'd been screaming, crying, and shouting for so long. For his Aunt May and Uncle Ben, for his Uncle Tony to swoop in with his armor and save him. Even for his mommy and daddy, though he knew they were gone. 

 

He was lost and alone, and he didn't know how he got there or how long he had been there. Peter felt sick. His chest hurt, and his tummy hurt, and his throat hurt, and he wanted someone, anyone to rescue him from the monsters with teeth and claws and deafening howls that tried to hurt him. From the ghosts that shrieked and reached out freezing cold hands for him. From the people who looked terrifying, with white eyes, and too-wide mouths full of sharp teeth, and black cracks in white skin, and red streaks that looked like blood, and sharp, black nails that glistened darkly. Everyone, everything towered over him, and no matter how fast he ran he couldn't escape. 

 

Peter was hiding now, hoping desperately that none of the monsters could get him, flinching at every loud noise the seeped through his blocked ears.

 

Then the closet door opened, and he screamed as he tried to shove himself further into the corner. An enormous man loomed in the doorway, blocking out the dim light. In the time it took Peter's eyes to adjust, he had stepped back, crouched down, and murmured his name.

 

“Peter.”

 

The monsters had known his name, too. But they’d called for him in menacing whispers, and shrieking cackles. They’d said his name just to scare him.

 

This man said it gently. Kindly. As if he was trying to reassure him. Maybe the man was just trying to lull him into a false sense of security. But he’d stepped back. He waited. And Peter was desperate for a kind face, for someone to _help_ him.

 

And he had a mustache like his Uncle Tony.

 

“Who’re you?” His voice wavered and cracked. Peter swallowed and lifted his chin, trying to look brave despite being huddled in a ball. “Where are we?”

 

“My name is Dr. Stephen Strange.” He hesitated, and shrugged his shoulders. Peter’s eyes widened when he saw the red cape the man was wearing float up and around him, approaching Peter with caution and somehow projecting curiosity.

 

“I’m here to help you,” the stranger said as he stared in fascination at the cape, uncurling slightly as it reached out a corner to pat at his tear-stained face. When Peter reached out to poke at the fabric, it curled gently around his hand, and then wrapped him up loosely in heavy fabric. It was like a big, warm blanket, and he relaxed just a little more.

 

“As for where we are,” Dr. Strange continued. “I’m afraid that you’ve been asleep for quite some time, Peter. You’ve been trapped in nightmares.”

 

“Is that why Aunt May and Uncle Ben and Uncle Tony haven’t come for me?” Peter asked in a small voice. “Can I get un-trapped? I don’t wanna be here.” His breath hitched on a sob, and he buried his face in the cape.

 

“Your aunt and uncles have been with you every day for as long as they possibly can. And I’m here to try to figure out how to get you and the other children un-trapped.”

 

“Other kids?” Peter repeated.

 

“Peter, is it alright if I come in?”

 

He peeked at the doctor, and finally gave a tiny nod.

 

Dr. Strange slid over next to him and placed a cautious hand on his head. It was too much. Peter hadn’t had any sort of friendly contact in what felt like forever, and he threw himself at the adult beside him, clinging to him. Dr. Strange hit the wall with a startled sound, and Peter felt a little bad, but he was too busy bawling into his chest to say sorry.

 

It took him a while to hug him back – _maybe he wasn’t used to hugs? That was awful, Peter would have to find a way to help_ – but at last he was being held securely, shaky hands clumsily patting his hair, and Peter’s heart eventually stopped trying to beat its way out of his chest.

 

“I’m trying very hard to get you out of here,” Dr. Strange said at last.

 

“All of us?” he mumbled, too embarrassed to look up yet.

 

“All of you. Have you seen any of the others?”

 

He shook his head, face still pressed into damp, blue robes. “No.”

 

“Do you remember anything weird or unusual happening, before you started getting nightmares?”

 

Dr. Strange asked a lot of questions, one right after another, kind of like Peter’s doctor did when he went in for a check-up. Probably all doctors sounded like that. But he didn’t let go or try to make him sit up on his own, and the cape let him tug at it and fiddle with its ends, even poking back or patting him gently. And the scary noises had stopped since the doctor had shown up. So that was okay.

 

Peter felt safe. He wasn’t old enough yet to have fully developed his sense of smell, but he liked what he could smell so far. And it didn’t really even have anything to do with being an alpha or an omega, either. School taught that omegas were comfort and alphas were protection, but he wasn’t sure which one it was. It felt like both. Betas were in between, so maybe that’s what it was?

 

“Thank you, Peter,” Dr. Strange said when they finished talking and Peter was comfortable enough to shift out of his lap and onto the floor next to him, leaning against his side. “You’ve been very helpful.”

 

He ducked his head, feeling suddenly shy, and smiled a little.

 

“You've been very brave.”

 

“I haven't.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I'm a scaredy-cat.”

 

“All brave people are afraid,” he said. “But you kept yourself safe. You were smart and hid when running didn't work. And you even worried about the other children despite everything you've been through.”

 

Peter didn't know if he believed him. But he wanted to. He wanted to be a hero like his Uncle Tony.

 

“Are you leaving me here?” he asked, and his voice wobbled, despite trying to sound as brave as Dr. Strange thought he was.

 

“I'm sorry,” he said with a wince. “I promise to be back soon, but I need to find the rest of you, and then figure out a way to release everyone from their nightmares.”

 

Peter nodded. He tried to let go, but he was too terrified at the thought of being alone again to release his grip on the cape.

 

Dr. Strange's expression softened a little, and he tilted his head in thought. “I won't leave you unprotected, Peter.” He brought a small knife out of a pouch on one of his belts and ran it along his shaking left palm. A line of blood welled up, and he used that same hand to grasp the corner of cloth the cape offered up to him, while the knife cut off a small piece. Peter whimpered at that, and the doctor shushed him absentmindedly as he clenched the piece of cloth in his bloodied fist for a moment before shaking it out. “It's alright,” he murmured as a red blanket unfurled. 

 

Peter was still staring, wide-eyed, when Dr. Strange wrapped the blanket around him, and he sank into it immediately. It was warm, feeling just as safe and comfortable as when he had been wrapped in the cape and held by the doctor. He sniffed, and it smelled just the same, too.

 

“Just stay bundled up in that, and you'll be safe. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

 

A shaky hand rested on top of his head, and then the wizard was gone.

 

 

Tony absently sorted through the holograms of webpages that floated around him. His mind was on the information he had spent the night studying. He had browsed – if not read through – every case study, journal article, social media site, Wikipedia page, and newspaper headline that had to do with Stephen Strange. He had also seriously debated accessing records that weren't public, including medical scans, plane tickets and credit card accounts, to find out where he had disappeared to and what brought him back. Contrary to popular belief, however, Tony did know how to respect other people's privacy. It only got thrown out the window in regards to possible threats.

 

Strange might be infuriating, but he hadn't done anything to be considered a threat. Yet. No matter how tempting.

 

And he  _wanted_. Strange was interesting, in some ways a mystery, and Tony wanted to know everything about him.

 

His eyes focused again on the image of the doctor's crash and he tried not to draw parallels. Tried not to think that he was looking in a carnival mirror as his fingers tapped a quick rhythm on his arc reactor casing. 

 

Tony could see it, the man Strange had been. Genius, arrogant, narcissistic, an alpha at the top of his game (and he was an alpha according to the papers, though Tony could find nothing to explain the lack of it in the other man's scent).

 

He could see it because that was essentially what he had been: genius, arrogant, narcissistic, an omega with the world at his feet (Howard had been so disappointed when he had presented as a weak, emotional omega, but Howard had always been disappointed in him anyway).

 

He sighed and stretched as he stood, flicking away the bundle of webpages before him. He supposed that he should just be grateful they were getting a world-renowned neurosurgeon in to consult. But his path had led him to Iron Man, and it made him wonder how Strange had changed and where he had been. What he had found in Asia, and why he had come back. “Shut it all down, Friday.”

 

“Sure thing, Boss. Are you visiting Peter today?”

 

Tony paused and glanced at the time. It looked like he had missed breakfast and lunch today. “I'll stay overnight again, after I get food and a few hours of sleep.”

 

“That seems counterintuitive.”

 

“Yeah, well, you're not the one sitting in chairs designed specifically to be uncomfortable.”

 

“If you say so. Shall I call ahead to let them know you're coming?”

 

“Nah, you know what? Let's surprise 'em.”

 

“I'm sure they'll be thrilled,” Friday stated dryly, and Tony grinned.

 

“Of course they will, baby girl. Why wouldn't they? It's  _me_ , after all.”

 

And if there was some subconscious hope that he would see Dr. Strange again, well. He wasn't going to admit it to himself much less anyone else.

 

Tony inhaled the last bit of leftover chicken stir-fry, and was reminded of his visitor from the previous day. He'd taken him outside that evening, and hadn't seen him since. It made him wonder why the cat had snuck his way in with him in the first place, and he glowered as he remembered the god-awful screeching noise of those claws scratching at his elevator door. That little brat.

 

That aside, though, it hadn't been so bad, having an animal in his home. Friday could remind him to feed and water it, if he didn't come up with a robot that could do it for him. He'd never had a pet before, but surely it couldn't be that hard. Peter would be ecstatic, too.

 

He made a face at himself. His heat was still days away, but it was definitely influencing him if he was seriously considering having a living creature around to care for. They might not be new thoughts – he'd wanted a dog when he was a kid, and was unequivocally told no – but the presence of a cat in his home was prompting him to seriously consider it.

 

Specifically, Tony kind of wanted that particular cat. Had it stayed any longer, he might have given in and named it Trouble or something. He was already tempted to go looking for it, not that he’d have any idea where it might have run off to.

 

He pushed those thoughts away with a huff and collapsed face-first into his bed, where he promptly passed out for a few hours. Even then fleeting thoughts of the cat passed through his mind upon waking, before his attention shifted completely to Peter. It was just after midnight when he arrived at the hospital, but his name and reputation got him in with little trouble. Plus, he’d already made a deal for overnight visitation rights, so they really couldn’t complain or bar him entry.

 

The halls of the hospital were mostly quiet, and his shoes squeaked on the floor. By now he knew the way by heart, and his shoulders grew tenser as he neared the children’s ward. He hated feeling helpless. Loathed it, but for all his genius, there was nothing he could do, and even hiring the best doctors in the world couldn’t get anyone out of a coma any faster.

 

Couldn’t even manage to figure out what the hell was wrong this time, and no matter how Tony combed surveillance cameras or studied medical journals, neither could he.

 

He leaned his forehead against the door separating him from his godson and clenched his eyes shut. Inhaled deeply, sighed, and silently slid the door open. He knew that noise wasn’t going to disturb any of the kids in there, but it was habit when checking on the kid at night. He could even almost pretend that Peter was just sleeping, and he needed to be careful not to wake him.

 

Muscle memory had Tony closing the door just as silently. His attention was otherwise taken by the tall figure bent over _his Peter_ , hands examining his head and throat, holding a flashlight – no – his _hands_ were glowing – glowing gold like _magic_ –

 

He was across the room and slamming the man against the wall, holding him there with the weight of his body pressed tight against him, pinning his hands on either side of his head and ignoring the pained groan.

 

“Stark,” his captive muttered in surprise.

 

“Strange,” Tony hissed. His heart beat wildly. Magic. Fuck. There was very little he could do against magic, to keep this…this wizard, or whatever the fuck he was, trapped.

 

But Strange wasn’t trying to escape.

 

“Stark, I’m not here to hurt anyone. I’m not a threat. I’m a _doctor_.”

 

Tony glared back at him, right into those pale eyes. It was the first time he’d been close enough to see their color, some combination of blue, gray, and green. They were distractingly pretty, he thought, and familiar somehow.

 

The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning, and his grip tightened around those slender wrists.

 

He ignored the flinch, and growled, “ _You_. You were the _cat_.”

 

“Stark, I have reasons for what I’ve been doing in trying to help these children. And I am willing to discuss this with you, but I would prefer the both of us were calm and perhaps sitting down for the explanation.”

 

Tony was a bit beyond rational discussion. His adrenaline was surging in fear and protective anger, his fight or flight instincts screaming at him, and everything magnified by his oncoming heat. Flight had never truly been an option for him. He’d been fighting almost every day of his life, against his father’s disappointment and disinterest, against businessmen who believed their world was no place for an omega, against terrorists and villains trying to destroy his world.

 

He saw how Strange deliberately relaxed himself, how this alpha adjusted his body language to indicate a certain submissiveness. And instead of calming him, he just felt confused and furious.

 

So he lashed out, vitriol he didn’t really mean escaping his lips.

 

“You won’t even attempt to defend yourself or fight back? What kind of so-called alpha just gives in, rolls over, and exposes their belly?”

 

It was a mistake. Tony regretted those words almost as soon as he said them, and not just because of Strange’s reaction, but because they were the worst sort of sentiment, and not something he had ever truly believed.

 

The doctor’s eyes lit with rage, and he jerked against Tony’s hold as he outright snarled, “ _I am no less an alpha than I was before_.”

 

Tony wasn’t entirely sure of the exact sequence of events, the darkness of the room not helping as he attempted to block Strange’s attack. But suddenly thick fabric was in his way, a solid strike against across his upper chest well above the reactor, a leg colliding with the back of a knee, and he slammed against the floor. It didn’t hurt as much is it probably could have with the fabric cushioning his landing, but it did stun him. Long enough to be trapped by that same fabric – cloak? – twisting around his shoulders and one arm. At the same time Strange dropped onto his chest, pinning his arms with his knees, a solid forearm pressed across his throat, the other braced on the floor next to Tony’s head. Tony wasn’t flexible enough for his legs to be of any use in freeing himself.

 

The pair were frozen for a long moment, breathing heavily as clarity returned to Tony, his fear-induced adrenaline rush fading away and his mind reengaging.

 

Fuck. Fuck, he’d really fucked up. And it was difficult to think with Strange on top of him, leaning over him, dominating him. His omega instincts were practically purring.

 

Not to mention his scent, now that he was paying attention. He had begun to think he’d misremembered just how good he’d smelled, and he was right in a way. It was even better like this, thick and strong, encompassing him. He relaxed almost in spite of himself, drunk on the comfort and the sensation of home and protection, despite being at the mercy of an angry alpha.

 

He suppressed a whine of regret when he parsed out that Strange was feeling more upset than angry, and he thought he caught the briefest note of shame. That wouldn’t do. He shouldn’t be ashamed just because of Tony’s thoughtlessness.

 

Tony tilted his head back a little, exposing his throat. “Sorry,” he murmured hoarsely, the pressure of the other’s arm still a bit constrictive. “I didn’t mean…that was…. I lashed out without thinking, and said things I didn’t mean and don’t believe. I’m sorry.”

 

Strange stared at him, still a little wild around the eyes, before nodding stiltedly and moving off of him. “It’s understandable. You were worried for Peter.”

 

“And I’ve had bad experiences with magic,” Tony offered. He stared in bemusement as the animated cloak lifted him to his feet, and then twirled back onto the wizard’s shoulders.

 

“The Cloak of Levitation,” Strange said in explanation.

 

“Is that you doing it, or…?”

 

He shrugged. “It does what it wants.”

 

“…Right.”

 

Tony felt drained and off-kilter, and he suspected that Strange was feeling much the same. But they both pulled up a chair and he listened to what the other had been doing and worked out so far. He tried very hard not to let the surreality and seeming illogic of magic get to him.

 

“How did everyone miss this?” he sighed, peering at the mark on Peter’s skin just behind his right ear.

 

“It was hidden with magic. A glamour that small is extremely difficult to pick up unless you’re looking for it.” Strange frowned down at it. “It doesn’t look quite like I’d expect it to, though,” he murmured as if to himself.

 

“But what does this Nightmare want?” Tony demanded, hands flailing in frustration. “What’s the point?”

 

“That’s something I haven’t quite figured out. Children might be easy to frighten, it’s true, but it’s generally a shallow sort of fear. Few of them would have the life experiences that would add depth and power to their nightmares. And this epidemic isn’t even spreading very quickly, for something that originates in a realm that worlds of people have access to in their sleep.”

 

The pair subsided into silence.

 

“Have you been experiencing more or greater nightmares recently?” Strange wondered.

 

“I don’t sleep,” he said automatically. At his companion’s unimpressed expression, he added, “On those rare occasions I do, no, no more nightmares than usual. Could it be a trap? All of this?”

 

Strange sighed. “Probably.” He abruptly hovered in midair and folded his legs into a seated position. “But I’m as prepared as I’m going to be, I think.”

 

“Whoa, wait, you’re doing this now?”

 

“Of course.” He arched an eyebrow.

 

“But…” Tony took a deep breath, gaze darting around the room, and then met his gaze in a determined expression. “I’m coming with you.”

 

“What? _No_.”

 

“Look, that is _my_ kid lying in that bed. They’re all defenseless kids, and I am Iron Man. You are not doing this alone, with me just sitting on the sidelines looking pretty. I mean, I look very pretty, but I kind of have a responsibility here as a superhero, you know.”

 

“Stark,” the sorcerer bit out, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You won’t be physically present in the Dream Dimension, ergo, your Iron Man suit will not come with you.”

 

“Did you seriously just use ergo in a sentence?” Tony continued hastily when it looked like Strange was going to try shutting him down again. “If it’s the Dream Dimension and we’ll be dreaming to get there, then why the hell wouldn’t I be able to have my suit with me?”

 

“For one it requires training and mental discipline to manifest anything extraneous on your person, and for another…” He trailed off, giving him a considering look. “Actually… I suppose you might be able to manage it.”

 

“Great, let’s go then.”

 

“Wait, Stark, this is the subconscious self we’re talking about. The experience will be…intimate in a way that’s difficult to describe.”

 

“But we won’t suddenly know each other’s greatest secrets or bank account numbers or something?” Tony clarified, shifting uncomfortably while that descriptor seemed to echo in his head. Intimate. He wasn’t completely opposed, not with Strange, and even if he was, this was for Peter. He would do quite a lot for his godson.

 

“It’s a bit more abstract than that.”

 

“I don’t care,” Tony said. “My kid, Stephen. I don’t care, so stop trying to scare me off and let’s do this.”

 

The sorcerer arched an eyebrow. “First names, now?”

 

Tony attempted a careless grin. “If we’re going to be intimate, it only makes sense to be on friendly terms. Don’t you think?”

 

Stephen snorted and lowered himself to the floor. “Well? Get down here,” he said as he leaned his back against the wall.

 

Tony held that challenging gaze as he sat down next to him, pressing along his side. He didn’t look away as glowing fingertips touched his forehead.

 

And then suddenly they were elsewhere. Tony stumbled, disoriented by the shift and the strange location. It was a dark, uneven hill, strange shapes and colors that reminded him of an acid trip interrupted by the broken carcasses of Lamborghinis. Interspersed with the alien landscape were patches of familiar desert, and his heart almost stopped when he looked up to see wide open space, shadows of ships interrupting the sight of a field of stars.

 

“What is this?” he whispered, looking to his companion. Stephen looked at least as pale and shaken as he felt.

 

“My nightmares and, I assume, yours. Blended together,” he said. Obviously trying to avoid thinking about where they were, he asked, “Do you have your suit?”

 

Tony blinked and looked down at his arc reactor. He tapped it, willing his nanobots to activate.

 

Nothing happened.

 

“Sta – Tony?”

 

He flashed Stephen a quick grin. “Just a minute.” He frowned in concentration and pictured the structure of his suit, the blue prints, how it all worked. Everything that was his suit, and tapped his reactor again.

 

The nanobots flowed over him in wave, the suit forming around him.

 

“Ha!” he said in triumph, and looked up just in time to catch a flicker of awe in beautiful multihued eyes. It took everything he had to concentrate on the situation and not preen the way his omega instincts wanted. “What next, Doc?”

 

Stephen considered. “Peter first. He has something of mine, and it isn’t a good idea for me to confront Nightmare while fractured.”

 

“What do you mean fractured?” Tony questioned in alarm. But between one step and the next they appeared before a simple closet door.

 

“Peter?” Stephen called out, ignoring his question.

 

The closet door was wrenched open and a small form shrouded in a red blanket hurled itself at the sorcerer, much to Tony’s surprise.

 

“Mr. Doctor! You’re back,” his godson breathed, clinging to Stephen’s robes.

 

Tony’s heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t prepared for this sort of closeness between the two, but now that he saw it he was glad. It felt like it had been forever since he’d seen Peter well and running around, and when Stephen mentioned meeting him, he hadn’t said anything about what had happened between them.

 

“I did promise. Did the blanket help?”

 

“Yes!” Peter beamed, resilient despite having been trapped in nightmares. “It kept me safe and hidden. And it’s really warm and soft, too. Are we going home, now?”

 

“Soon,” Stephen said. “And I’m afraid I’ll need this back first.” He indicated the blanket. “But I did bring someone with me. I think you’ll be happy to see him.”

 

Peter tilted his head to the side and his eyes went wide. “Uncle Tony!” He leapt for the other man, Tony kneeling down and catching him easily before he injured himself on the hard metal of the suit.

 

“Hey, kid.” His eyes burned with unshed tears. “Ben, May and I have missed you so much.”

 

Stephen picked up the discarded blanket and twirled it around his shoulders, where it melted into his cloak. Tony’s eyes met his over the top of Peter’s head and he mouthed, ‘thank you.’

 

Once everyone had calmed down a bit, Tony stood up with a groan and asked, “Now what?”

 

“Now be prepared to defend yourself and the kid,” Stephen said, deadly serious.

 

Tony’s pursed his lips and nodded unhappily.

 

Checking that he was ready, Peter fidgeting at his side, Stephen retrieved a pouch from his belt and tipped a small handful of golden dust into his palm. “Close your eyes and try not to breathe this in, Peter.”

 

The little boy looked curious, but nodded without saying anything, squeezing his eyes shut.

 

Stephen gently blew the dust into his face, and they tensed, waiting for a reaction.

 

Seconds ticked by, and nothing changed.

 

“Did something go wrong?” Tony wondered, repulsor charged and ready.

 

Stephen frowned. “Impossible. _Something_ should have happened, even if it wasn’t what we expected.” He hesitated, and then began moving his hands in arcane configurations. “I’m going to try something. It won’t hurt, Peter, I promise, but I’ll need to touch you just behind your ears.”

 

Peter nodded, while Tony frowned but didn’t move to stop him.

 

As soon as glowing fingertips touched the markings he had found earlier, the entire landscape seemed to convulse. Stephen stumbled back in alarm, barely suppressing a litany of foul language. “Curse me for a fool,” he snarled.

 

“What’s happening?” Tony shouted, clutching a frightened Peter to him.

 

“It wasn’t Nightmare at all!”

 

“Is that good or bad?”

 

“Both.”

 

“Straight answer, Strange!”

 

“Good news is, we don’t have to worry about the near-omniscient ruler of this dimension. Yet. That might change of too much magic gets thrown around and we catch his attention.

 

“Bad news is, it’s actually a fear demon and I wasn’t prepared for this scenario at all. It must have gotten foothold in a small, unnoticed corner of Nightmare’s domain,” he muttered the last to himself. “I think it’s been feeding off of the fears of children as well as their worried family.”

 

Demon. Right. He put off that breakdown for much later. “How do we fight it?”

 

“ _We_ don’t.”

 

“Stephen – ”

 

“You need to take Peter and find all of the other children. Once you gather them all up – ” Peter screamed as a bolt of lightning hit Stephen’s hastily conjured shield, “ – I can cut the connection and get you all back.”

 

“How do I find them?!” Tony bellowed, sending a repulsor blast at a threatening knot of darkness that just seemed to absorb the energy.

 

“Follow Peter. He’s got a connection.”

 

“Stephen…”

 

“I’ll be fine. Go!”

 

Tony gritted his teeth, gathered a crying Peter, and flew away from the bright flashes of magic. The desperate journey was a blur as he followed Peter’s feelings through nightmare landscapes, fighting off monsters and villains, and bringing hope to frightened children as Iron Man.

 

At last he had all of the affected children, and he just lingered uselessly, wondering how to find Stephen again and let him know.

 

But it seemed he sensed it because there was a flash of white light, and he found himself waking on the floor of the hospital room. His mind was reeling, to feel so abruptly comfortable and unafraid. It took him a long while to realize that he was sprawled across the fascinating alpha, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

 

“Stephen,” he whispered, pulling back and looking around. “Peter?”

 

He heard the bedsheets rustle, a small child slowly waking, and Tony’s heart was suddenly racing with hope and anticipation.

 

“Peter?”

 

He shifted onto his knees, still straddling Stephen, and then paused when the alpha didn’t even shift. “Stephen?” he said again, nudging him, but not even the cloak twitched. Fear gripped him, and he tried to fight it down. The demon fed off of it, and if Stephen was still battling it…

 

He froze in indecision, then popped up to his feet to check the symbol that marred Peter’s skin, made easier when the kid turned his head away. It was faint and quickly growing fainter. “Come on. Please let it mean what I think it means.”

 

“Uncle Tony?” Peter mumbled.

 

“I’m here,” he whispered, stroking his hair and watching. There was the faintest glow, and then the brand disappeared. “You okay, kid?” he asked as he twisted to stare at Stephen with bated breath.

 

When he moaned, eyes slitting open, Tony slumped, feeling boneless with relief. Until the other man passed out again, somehow going more still than he had been when his astral self was in the Dream Dimension.

 

“I’m fine,” Peter said, sounding more awake. “Go help him, Uncle Tony.”

 

Tony bit his lip, pressed a quick kiss to his godson’s head, and then leapt to gather the alpha in his arms, gently depositing him on a spare cot and checking him over. He was torn. He didn’t want to just dump Stephen there, didn’t want to leave his side, but Peter had just woken up and he didn’t want to leave the kid alone either.

 

A quick text to May and Ben, would take care of that problem. They were ecstatic on hearing the good news and would be at the hospital as soon as they could. Normal visiting hours would start soon enough, anyway, and hopefully Stephen wouldn’t take too long to recover. He doubted the doctor wanted to draw attention from his former colleagues, after all. The kids all seemed fine, Stephen surely would have said something if they required further medical attention after waking up, so Tony probably didn’t need to go find a nurse or someone. They’d figure it out soon enough without him saying anything.

 

Calmer now, he could take stock of himself. His sense of time was completely screwed up, but at least physically he was fine. He just couldn’t bring himself to let go of Stephen yet.

 

Tony considered what Stephen had said about the intimacy of the experience. No, he didn’t suddenly know Stephen’s secrets or thoughts. But whatever connection he felt with Stephen had grown strong. Stronger than just his initial fascination.

 

“You’re a self-sacrificing moron, Stephen Strange,” he muttered.

 

 

The children had all been discharged and taken home by teary, relieved family members within a day or two. Even doctors were calling it a miracle, not just because the kids all recovered, but because they had all woken at more or less the same time. Stephen had no doubt that rumors and conspiracy theories were flying, and he was only too glad to give all of that a miss. So long as no one seriously thought he was connected in any way, he could care less what conclusion they came to.

 

Stephen ended up recovering from the battle with the demon in Tony Stark’s home, completely drained of the energy to stand up to a man used to getting his way and refusing to hear the word ‘no’. Wong had agreed to cover for him at the Sanctum when the situation was explained, and really, it wasn’t a bad situation.

 

He was reluctant to admit, even to himself, that he was fascinated by the omega. Perhaps it was the thrill of finding someone who could keep up with him, who could match him so well. Who could keep his mind occupied while he healed. It was rare indeed for Stephen to find someone he was willing to make an effort for, to actually be interested in getting to know them as a person and maybe become friends. They may not have reached the point of confessing secrets and trauma, but in keeping Stephen from getting too bored and risking his health, they had talked quite a bit.

 

But now Tony’s heat was only hours away and Stephen was well enough to make his way back to Bleecker Street.

 

“Are you sure you’re completely recovered?” Tony asked, brows furrowed.

 

“I’ll have to limit my magic use for a while, and I definitely shouldn’t use astral projection for at least a month, but other than that.” Stephen shrugged. “I wasn’t exactly injured physically, you know.”

 

Tony bit his lip, and his brown eyes hardened in determination. “Stay. Please.”

 

Stephen was taken aback. “Tony, your heat is going to be starting soon.”

 

“I know.”

 

He swallowed hard, but refused to back away when Tony edged close enough that he could feel his body heat. “I might be a broken alpha,” his voice cracked, “but I am still an alpha. I won’t be unaffected.”

 

“Stephen, now you’re being deliberately obtuse.”

 

He closed his eyes, tried to keep his face expressionless. He was being deliberately obtuse. It didn’t hurt so much that way.

 

Omegas didn’t want to share heats with him. Not since his accident. He was too obviously damaged, too much trouble, just for one heat. If his scent wasn’t an indication of that, his hands certainly were. And his personality didn’t make up for his shortcomings; he just wasn’t worth the effort to be chosen as a heat partner, or even to form an actual relationship.

 

Not that he’d ever really been tempted for anything long-term. Not since, not until now.

 

He opened his eyes. “Tony, I can’t knot you. And I’m sure you’re aware that my hands have a very weak grip – ”

 

“I don’t – I don’t just want you for your knot, Stephen,” Tony said, incredulous and sympathetic at once. “I’m not asking because you’re an _alpha_. I’m asking because I – because it’s _you_.”

 

A tremor wracked his body as the omega closed the distance and wrapped his arms loosely around his neck, leaning his weight against him.

 

“Is it to do with why you don’t smell like an alpha?” Tony whispered, nuzzling his slender throat as Stephen’s arms slowly embraced his waist.

 

“Yes. My accident had more lasting damage than just my hands. The gland associated with alpha hormone production was scarred. I don’t go into rut anymore, I can’t knot, and my sense of smell is dulled. And my scent, of course. Most people find it unnatural.”

 

Tony hummed and dragged his facial hair against Stephen’s skin, whose embrace tightened in response. “You smell divine.”

 

Stephen couldn’t believe it, jerking back to give him an incredulous look.

 

“I’m serious,” he insisted. “I’ve never smelled anything so amazing. It’s one of the first things that caught my attention. Made me curious. You smell like home.”

 

Stephen didn’t know how to respond, what to feel. He’d think about it later, but for now he could only manage a quiet, “oh.”

 

“What about the alpha voice?”

 

“Yes,” Stephen said hesitantly. “I can still do that.”

 

“What about bonding? Would that be possible for you? Someday, I mean?”

 

Stephen’s reply was a strangled, “Yes,” his mind spinning as he tried to find his footing in the conversation. It had taken a turn he had never considered. Had never allowed himself to consider, because that only led to disappointment.

 

“You didn’t answer my first question,” the omega pointed out.

 

“What?”

 

Tony smiled at him fondly. “Would you share my heat?”

 

Oh. Right. He hadn’t answered, had he?

 

“I would love to,” he said seriously.

 

Tony beamed and led him to his bedroom, gently holding his shaking hands. He showed him where the supplies were kept, stripped, and then pulled him into his nest where they traded kisses as they discussed boundaries, the limits of Stephen’s hands, and birth control and clean test results.

 

Stephen noticed right away when the heat began. Sweat beaded Tony’s brow as his skin flushed, and he began to writhe against him.

 

“Stephen,” he breathed, wiggling closer and grinding his erection against the alpha’s abdomen.

 

Stephen hummed in response and trailed kisses along his neck, biting and licking the unmarred skin to declare his claim. Tony clutched at his head, and he chuckled darkly when the omega whined as he moved lower.

 

He spent time lapping and sucking at one nipple and thumbing the other, before switching to give them equal treatment while he pressed Tony’s lower body firmly against the mattress, his weight holding him more or less still. He could feel Tony’s cock twitching against his stomach, and the way he struggled to thrust against him, failing without proper leverage.

 

“So impatient,” Stephen murmured as he trailed kisses across the scar tissue on his chest, occasionally following patterns of scars as he made his way further down his torso, and noting with interest the way Tony shuddered at the rumble of his voice.

 

“Please,” Tony panted, clenching at the sheets when he stopped just short of his cock, pre-cum beading at the tip, and blew lightly to tease. He tried to thrust again, but the sorcerer’s arm was like a steel bar holding him in place. “Alpha, please.”

 

Stephen growled, and Tony’s breath hitched when he leaned forward to lap at the tip, and then dig his tongue into the slit.

 

“Ah!” Tony shuddered, and then leaned up on one elbow to get a better view as the wet heat of Stephen’s mouth sucked him down. “Fuck. Oh fuck, you look so good, feel so – ah, Stephen, alpha, yes, suck me, so pretty, your mouth around my cock, God, please, please, alpha!” The alpha held his gaze, proud and even smug at reducing such a powerful man to a writhing, begging mess.

 

Stephen pulled off his cock to mouth at his balls while he shifted to bring a hand up. Carefully, he stroked Tony’s balls as he returned his mouth to his cock, one finger sliding back over his perineum and through the slick that almost seemed to be gushing out of his hole. Stephen moaned as his finger slid in easily to the knuckle, grinding his erection against the sheets for a bit of relief as he unerringly found Tony’s prostate.

 

Tony shouted at both the vibration around his cock and the bolt of pleasure tied to that bundle of nerves inside him. His body became almost impossibly taut, his cock jerked and swelled, balls drawing up, and Stephen moved back to hold the head on his tongue, swallowing as Tony came hard.

 

“Mmm.” The omega was still shuddering slightly when Stephen made his way back up his body and kissed his lips, his own erection pressed firmly against Tony’s hip. “That definitely took the edge off.”

 

“How long does it take to build up again?” Stephen rasped, smirking slightly at Tony’s reaction to his voice.

 

“Not long, the first few hours,” he replied. “I don’t even get soft in between.”

 

“I can see that.” He gently brushed a hand against Tony’ cock, still hard where it rested on his belly.

 

Tony’s hips twitched, breath catching. “The, ah, periods between will last longer and longer the rest of my heat. I’m pretty, _ng_ , consistent that way.” He spread his legs, hips rocking slightly as Stephen lightly stroked his perineum and the edge of his hole.

 

The way his body then stilled, however, caught Stephen’s attention. He looked down to see what was wrong just as Tony’s calloused fingertips traced the long, vertical scar almost directly over Stephen’s heart. He brought his own shaky hand up to pull Tony’s gently away, kissing his fingers. “We can trade battle scars later,” he offered. “Not now.”

 

A complicated expression crossed Tony’s features, and then he nodded in agreement, eyes darkening further with lust. “Later.”

 

Stephen ground his cock against Tony’s body, burying his face in his omega’s hair and moaning when Tony brought a hand down to stroke him. It had been so long since he had been touched.

 

The little shit twisted to look directly into Stephen’s eyes and breathed, “Fuck me, alpha.”

 

Stephen jerked, his control hanging on by a thread. “Hands and knees, omega.” His voice was almost impossibly deep, vibrating through his chest.

 

His omega scrambled to obey, turning over and presenting himself to his alpha. Stephen kissed the base of his spine as he once again inserted a finger easily into the slick hole. Carefully, he worked a second in, occasionally pressing kisses to one cheek or the other, sometimes along his spine, sometimes lapping at where his fingers disappeared into Tony’s body. He brushed against his prostate only randomly, easily working his omega back up into a begging, pleading mess, babbling as he tried to fuck himself on Stephen’s fingers.

 

Only then did he insert a third finger, attempting to minimize the pain as he stretched and prepared Tony.

 

“You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart. My omega, you’re gorgeous like this, stretched on my fingers and so wet, so wet I can _hear_ you, you’re going to feel so good. Fuck, I can’t wait to fuck you.” He murmured praise and endearments, trying to distract himself from how desperately he wanted friction, wanted to find release in the willing body beneath him.

 

“Oh, no, no touching yourself,” he said, noticing Tony pressing his forehead to the mattress as he reached beneath him for his cock. A gesture, and ropes of magic wound around his wrists, dragging his hand away. They wouldn’t completely bind his movements, but they were too short to allow him to touch his cock.

 

“Is this okay, Tony?” he double-checked, pausing as he waited for a response.

 

“Yes, yes, just, alpha, fuck me!” Tony babbled, nearly sobbing in desperation.

 

“As you wish.” He ignored Tony’s whine when he pulled out his fingers, and slicked up his cock before bringing the head to Tony’s hole. He pressed forward, one hand resting on Tony’s hip as the other guided his cock. The both of them groaned when the head popped through the ring of muscle, and Stephen slid in smoothly until he bottomed out.

 

Stephen slumped over Tony and felt him tremble. “Are you alright?” he whispered.

 

Tony twisted so that he could so him over his shoulder, pupils blown wide so that his eyes looked almost completely black. “Oh, yeah,” he almost slurred, “so good. You feel so good inside me, alpha, splitting me wide on your cock.”

 

“Brat,” Stephen moaned as his hips jerked at the omega’s words.

 

“Fuck me!” Tony demanded, shoving his hips back.

 

Stephen snarled in warning and draped himself over Tony’s back, pressed tight skin to skin, sliding his arms beneath Tony’s and bracing his forearms against the mattress. He surrounded his omega, drowned him in his scent, and completely dominated him without aggression or violence.

 

And then he fucked him.

 

Stephen’s hips snapped forward again and again, balls slapping against Tony’s ass as he adjusted his angle incrementally, until Tony’s scream indicated that he’d found his prostate. He did his best to hold that angle as Tony was reduced to wordless cries of pleasure, instinctively tilting his head to expose his bonding gland.

 

Stephen did his best to avoid it, to distract himself with the tightness and heat around his cock. He might be nearly dizzy with the scent of an omega in heat, but it wasn’t an excuse. It was far too early to even think of bonding, and it would be a violation to give in to those instincts when neither party had agreed to it.

 

When Tony did, eventually manage to find his words, it was to stutter, “T-touch me- _e_. _Alpha_.”

 

“No,” Stephen rumbled in his ear. “You’ll come like this, omega. Untouched, on my cock. Fuck, yours must be a sight, red and hard and bobbing between your legs. I almost wish we’d begun on your back so I could see it, could see it twitch and swell, see your cum pulse and mark your skin, not just feel it in my mouth. Watch your face again as you come. You’re so beautiful when you’re lost in pleasure.”

 

Stephen could feel the omega’s body growing tense again, drawing up tighter and tighter at his words, and clamping down on him like a vice. As if he was trying to trap him in his body.

 

“That’s what we’ll do next, I think. You flat on your back and bent nearly in half, legs wide as I spear you on my cock.”

 

His next thrust must have hit Tony’s prostate dead on. The omega shouted his name and convulsed, wrenching Stephen’s orgasm out of him as well. He froze, shoved as deep as possible while his mind went blank.

 

When Tony collapsed, Stephen quickly dismissed the ropes and managed to turn them onto their sides, clutching the omega tightly to his chest as they gasped for breath. Despite the lack of a knot tying them together, the shift hadn’t dislodged him from Tony’s body. He pressed himself closer, tangling their legs as Tony occasionally clenched around him, squeezing out another small pulse of cum.

 

“Fuck, Stephen,” Tony muttered at last, breathless.

 

“It’s a little too soon to go again,” Stephen grumbled, grinding his hips forward slightly and causing his partner to shudder.

 

Tony chuckled. “Smart ass. But God, you’re _mouth_.”

 

Stephen pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck. “I’ve been told it’s one of my better qualities.” He paused. “Also, one of my worst.”

 

Tony snorted and turned, while Stephen leaned over to meet him in a languid kiss until the position grew too uncomfortable. Tony lay back down and Stephen reached for a water bottle. He coaxed the omega to drink, and then finished the rest before he curled around him, both content to wait for the next wave of heat to take them.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if the ending (pre-smut) felt a bit rushed. This ended up being way longer than I planned, and I wanted to get it posted on time.


End file.
